

Class j;E5ji£i_51- 
Rook Eg&4 t fg 

CopyrightN" 



COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT 





^ Moman's ILove^lLetters. 



TKc Flcup de Lb Poeb, 

— — d 



AWOMAN'5 t • i • t 
t • -t • LOVE LETTERS. 

BY- SOPHIE A\.AL/VV0N-HE-N5LEY. 



'in J J J 
» 3 3, 

3 J J J J , 



3 J^JjJJ, > JJ, :> 



/^i;^ {'' (\]\ir* jJMT'? >' 




U-^L4f^-^-"^ 



NEW YORK. J. SELWIN' TAIT 
ANP SONS, NVMPER SIXTY- 
PIVD EIETfl AVENVE. • i • i 



\^ 



TS 3S"i^" 



• 9 • • 



••• • • I 

.'• -•• 'I 

•«• ••• ••< 



CO^T^RtGliT; iSgs, 



J. SELWIN TAIT & SONS, 



i •': • • : newyqrk: 
"': ••• •.• I ••* 






Contents. 



A Dream, 

Dream-Song, 

Doubt, . 

Song, 

Anticipation, 

Song, 

Misunderstanding, 

Shadow-Song, 

Revulsion, 

A Song of Dawn, 

Weariness, 

A Song of Rest, 

Death, . 

Battle-Song, 

Content, 

Sea-Song, . 

Gratitude, 

Song, 

Prayer, 

Song, 

Loneliness, 

Sea-Song, 

Incompleteness, 

Song, 

Life's Joys, 

Song, 

Barter, 

Song, 

To-morrow, 

Song, 



PAGE 
. I 



13 
14 
18 

19 
23 
24 

27 

28 

31 

33 
38 
39 
42 
44 
48 

49 
53 
54 
57 
59 
64 
65 
70 
72 
76 
78 
82 



31 §rmm. 

I STOOD far off above the haunts of men 
Somewhere, I know not, when the sky 

was dim 
From some worn glory, and the morning 

hymn 
Of the gay oriole echoed from the glen. 
Wandering, I felt earth's peace, nor knew 

I sought 
A visioned face, a voice the wind had 

caught. 

I passed the waking things that stirred and 
gazed. 
Thought-bound, and heeded not; the 

waking flowers 
Drank in the morning mist, dawn's ten- 
der showers, 

I 



And looked forth for the Day-god who had 
blazed 
His heart away and died at sundown. Far 
In the gray west faded a loitering star. 

It seemed that I had wandered through 
long years, 
A life of years, still seeking gropingly 
A thing I dared not name ; now I could 
see 
In the still dawn a hope, in the soft tears 
Of the deep-hearted violets a breath 
Of kinship, like the herald voice of Death. 

Slow moved the morning ; where the hill 
was bare 
Woke a reluctant breeze. Dimly I knew 
My Day was come. The wind-blown 
blossoms threw 
Their breath about me, and the pine-swept 
air 
Grew to a shape, a mighty, formless 

thing, 
A phantom of the wood's imagining. 



B "WHoman's XovesXettecs. 



And as I gazed, spell-bound, it seemed to 
move 
Its tendril limbs, still swaying tremulously 
As if in spirit-doubt ; then glad and free 
Crystalled the being won from waiting 
grove 
Into a human likeness. There he stood, 
The vine-browed shape of Nature's mor- 
tal mood. 

" Now have I found thee, Vision I have 

sought 
These years, unknowing ; surely thou art 

fair 
And inly wise, and on thy tasselled hair 
Glows Heaven's own light. Passion and 

fame are naught 
To thy clear eyes, O Prince of many 

lands, — 
Grant me thy joy," I cried, and stretched 

my hands. 

No answer but the flourish of the breeze 
Through the black pines. Then, slov/ly, 
as the wind 

3 



U MomaiVs XovcsXetters. 



Parts the dense cloud-forms, leaving 

naught behind 
But shapeless vapor, through the budding 

trees 
Drifted some force unseen, and from my 

sight 
Faded my god into the morning light. 

Again alone. With wistful, straining eyes 
I waited, and the sunshine flecked the bank 
Happy with arbutus and violets where I 
sank 
Hearing, near by, a host of melodies, 
The rapture of the woodthrush ; soft her 

mood 
The love-mate, with such golden numbers 
woo'd. 

He ceased ; the fresh moss-odors filled the 
grove 
With a strange sweetness, the dark hem- 
lock boughs 
Moved soft, as though they heard the 
brooklet rouse 
To its spring soul, and whisper low of love. 

4 



B 'Umoman'6 %ovc^%ctteve. 

The white-robed birches stood unbend- 
ingly 

Like royal maids, in proud expectancy. 

Athwart the ramage where the young leaves 
, press 

It came to me, ah, call it what you will 
Vision or waking dream, I see it still ! 
Again a form born of the woodland stress 
Grew to my gaze, and by some secret sign 
Though shadow-hid, I knew the form was 
thine. 

The glancing sunlight made thy ruddy hair 
A crown of gold, but on thy spirit-face 
There was no smile, only a tender ^race 

Of love half doubt. Upon thy hand a rare 
Wild bird of Paradise perched fearlessly 
With radiant plumage and still, lustrous 
eye. 

And as I gazed I caw what I had deemed 
A shadow near thy hand, a dusky wing, 
A bird like last year's leaves, so dull a 
thing 
Beside its fellow ; as the sunchine gleamed 
S 



:a Roman's Xovc^Xetters. 

Each breast showed letters bright as crys- 
talled rain, 

The fair bird bore " Delight," the other 
" Pain." 

Then came thy voice : " O Love, wilt have 

my gift ? " 

I stretched my glad hands eagerly to grasp 

The heaven-blown bird, gold-hued, and 

longed to clasp 

It close and know it mine. Ere I might lift 

The shining thing and hold it to my 

breast 
Again I heard thy voice with vague unrest. 

" These are twin birds and may not parted 
be." 
Full in thine eyes I gazed, and read therein 
The paradox of life, of love, of sin, 
As on a night of cloud and mystery 

One darting flash makes bright the hid- 
den ways, 
And feet tread knowingly though thick 

the haze. 

6 



21 Woman's Xove*Xctter6. 

Thy gift, if so I chose, — no other hand 

Save thine. — I reached and gathered to 
my heart 

The quivering, sentient things. — Some- 
times I start 
To know them hidden there. — If I should 
stand 

Idly, some day, and one^ — God help me ! 
— breast 

A homing breeze, — my brown bird knows 
its nest. 



Cam'st thou not nigh to me 
In that one glimpse of thee 
When thy lips, tremblingly, 

Said : " My Beloved." 
'Twas but a moment's space, 
And in that crowded place 
I dared not scan thy face 

O ! my Beloved. 

Yet there may come a time 
(Though loving be a crime 
Only allowed. in rhyme 

To us, Beloved), 
When safe 'neath sheltering arm 
I may, without alarm. 
Hear thy lips, close and warm, 

Murmur : " Beloved ! " 



I DO not know if all the fault be mine, 
Or why I may not think of thee and be 
At peace with mine own heart. Un- 
ceasingly 
Grim doubts beset me, bygone words of 
thine 
Take subtle meaning, and I cannot rest 
Till all my fears and follies are confessed. 

Perhaps the wild wind's questioning has 
brought 
My heart its melancholy, for, alone 
In the night stillness, I can hear him moan 
In sobbing gusts, as though he vainly sought 
Some bygone bliss. Against the drip- 
ping pane 
In storm-blown torrents beats the driving 
rain. 

9 



21 Moman'6 XovcsTLettcrs. 



Nay I will tell thee all, I will not hide 
One thought from thee, and if I do thee 

wrong 
So much the more must I be brave and 
strong 
To show my fault. And if thou then 
shouldst chide 
I will accept reproof most willingly 
So it but bringeth peace to thee and me. 

I* dread thy past. Phantoms of otlier days 

Pursue my vision. There are other hands 

Which thou hast held, perchance some 

slender bands 

That draw thee still to other woodland ways 

Than those which zve have known, some 

blissful hours 
I do not share, of love, and June, and 
flowers. 

I dread her most, that woman whom thou 

knewest 
Those years ago, — I cannot bear to think 
That she can say : " My lover praised the 

pink 

lO 



B Moman's %ovc*%ettct3. 

Of palm, or ear," " The violets were bluest 
In that dear copse," and dream of some 

fair day 
When thou didst while her summer hours 

away. 

I dread them too, those light loves and 

desires 

That lie in the dim shadow of the years ; 

I fain would cheat myself of all my fears 

And, as a child watching warm winter fires, 

Dream not of yesterday's black embers, 

nor 
To-morrow's ashes that may strew the 
floor. 

I did not dream of this while thou wert near, 

But now the thought that haunts me day 

by day 

Is that the things I love, the tender way 

Of mastery, the kisses that are dear 

As Heaven's best gifts, to other lips and 

arms 

Owe half their blessedness and all their 

charms. 

SI 



M Moman'6 Xove^Xettecs, 

Tell me that I am wrong, O ! Man of men, 
Surely it is not hard to comfort me, 
Laugh at my fears with dear persistency, 

Nay, if thou must, lie to me ! There, again, 
I hear the rain, and the wind's wailing cry 
Stirs with wild life the night's monotony. 



T2 



J^onj. 



If I had known 
That when the morrow dawned the roses 

would be dead 
I would have filled my hands with blossoms 
white and red. 

If I had known ! 

If I had known 
That I should be to-day deaf to all happy 

birds 
I would have lain for hours to listen to your 
words. 

If I had known ! 

If I had known 
That with the morning light you would be 

gone for aye 
I would have been more kind ; — sweet Love 
had won his way 

If I had known. 
13 



3inttd}|dion. 



Let us peer forward through the dusk of 
years 

And force the silent future to reveal 

Her store of garnered joys ; we may not 
kneel 
For ever, and entreat our bliss with tears. 

Somewhere on this drear earth the sun- 
shine lies, 

Somewhere the air breathes Heaven- 
blown harmonies. 

Some day when you and I have fully learned 
Our waiting-lesson, wondering, hand in 

hand 
We shall gaze out upon an unknown land, 
Our thoughts and our desires forever turned 
From our old griefs, as swallows, home- 
warding. 
Sweep ever southward with unwearied 
wing. 

14 



a 'Oaoman^s XovesXetters. 

We shall fare forth, comrades for evermore. 
Though the ill-omened bird Time loves 

to bear 
Has brushed this cheek and left an im- 
press there 
I shall be fierce and dauntless as of yore, 
Free as a bird o'er the wide world to rove, 
And strong and fearless, O my Love, to 
love. 

What have we now ? The haunting, vague 
unrest 
Of incompleted measures ; and we dream 
Vainly, of the Musician and His theme, 
How the great Master in a day most blest 
Shall strike some might}' chords in har- 
mony. 
And make an end, and set the music free ! 

We snatch from Fate our moments of delight. 
Few as, in April hours, the wooing calls 
Of orioles, or when the twilight falls 

First o'er the forest ere the approach of 



night 



15 



The eyes of evening ; — and Love's song 

is sung 
But once, Dear Heart, but once, and we 

are young. 

Over the seas together, you and I, 

'Neath blue Italian skies, or on the hills 
Of storied Greece, — where the warm sun- 
light fills 
Spain's mellow vineyards, — wandering rev- 
erently 
O'er the green plains of Palestine, — our 

days 
A golden holiday in Old World ways. 

Yet would we linger not by southern shores ; 

The bracing breath of Scandinavian snov,s 

Would draw us from our dreams. The 

North wind blows 

Upon thy cheek, my Norseman, and the 

roars 

Of the wild Baltic sound within my ears 

When to my dreams thy stalwart form 

appears. 

i6 



21 TlCloman'a Xo\?e Xetters. 

This will the future bring. See ! Thou hast 
given 

From out the fulness of thy strength and 
will 

This courage to me. Though the rugged 
hill 
Looms high, and fronts our vision, yet our 
heaven 

(I see it when I sleep) with portals wide 

And shining towers, gleams on the far- 
ther side. 



17 



" TsHiRR ! " scolds the oriole 

Where the elms stir, 
Flaunting her gourd-like nest 
On the tree's swaying crest : 
" May's here, I cannot rest, 

Go away, tshirr ! " 

" Tshirr ! " scolds the oriole 

Where the leaves blur, 
Giving her threads a jerk. 
Spying where rivals lurk, 
" May's here, and I'm at work. 
Go away, tshirr ! " 



i8 



isuttder^tandittg* 



Spring's face is wreathed in smiles. She 

had been driven 
Hither and thither at the surly will 
Of treacherous winds till her sweet heart 

was chill. 
Into her grasp the sceptre has been given 
And now she touches with a proud young 

hand 
The earth, and turns to blossoms all the 

land. 

We catch the smile, the joyousness, the 
pride, 
And share them with her. Surely winter 

gloom 
Is for the old, and frost is for the 
tomb. 
Youth must have pleasure, and the tremu- 
lous tide 

19 



B Moman'g %ovcs%cttcxe* 



Of sun-kissed waves, and all the golden 

fire 
Of Summer's noontide splendor of desire. 

I have forgotten,— for the breath of buds 
Is on my temples, if in former days 
I have known sorrow ; I remember praise, 
And calm content, and joy's great ocean- 
floods, 
And many dreams so sweet that, in their 

place, 
We would not welcome even Truth's fair 
face. 

O Man to whom my heart hast leaned, dost 
know 
Aught of my life ? Sometimes a strong 

despair 
Enters my soul and finds a lodging there ; 
Thou dost not know me, and the years will 

go 
As these last months have gone, and I 

shall be 
Still far, still a strange woman unto thee. 

20 



B llCloman'6 Xove*5Lettcr0, 

I do not blame thee. If there is a fault 
Let it be mine, for surely had I tried 
The door of my heart's home to open wide 
No need had been for even Love's assault. 
And yet, methinks, somewhere there is a 

key 
Thou mightest have found, and entered 
happily. 

I am no saint niched in a hallowed wall 
For men to worship, but 1 would compel 
A level gaze. You teachers who would 
tell 
A woman's place I do defy you all ! 

While justice lives, and love with joy is 

crowned 
Woman and man must meet on equal 
ground. 

The deepest wrong is falsehood. She who 
sells 
Her soul and body for a little gain 
In ease, or the world's notice, has a stain 

Upon her soul no lighter for the bells 

21 



B TKIloman'6 Xove^Xetters, 

Of marriage rites, and purer far is she 
Who gives her all for love's sad ecstasy. 

Canst thou not understand a nature strong 

And passionate, with impulses that sway, 

With yearning tenderness that must have 

way, 

Yet knows no ill desire, no touch of wrong ? 

If thou canst not then in God's name I 

pray 
See me no more forever from this day. 



22 



The night is long 

And there are no stars, — 
Let me but dream 
That the long fields gleam 
With sunlight and song, 
Then I shall not long 
For the light of stars. 

Let me but dream, — 
For there are no stars, — 
Dream that the ache 
And the wild heart-break 
Are but things that seem. 
Ah ! let me dream 

For there are no stars. 



23 



I SEE the starting buds, I catch the gleam 
In the near distance of a sun-kissed pool, 
The blessed April air blows soft and cool. 

Small wonder if all sorrow grows a dream. 
And we forget that close around us lie 
A city's poor, a city's misery. 

Of every outward vision there is some 
Internal counterpart. To-day I know 
The blessedness of living, and the glow 
Of life's dear spring-tide. I can bid thee 
come 
In thought and wander where the fields 

are fair 
With bursting life, and I, rejoicing, there. 

Yet have I passed, Beloved, through the vale 

Of dark dismay, and felt the dews of death 

Upon my brow, have measured out my 

breath 

24 



B Moman^s 5Love*Xcttcr0. 



Counting my hours of joy, as misers quail 
At every footfall in the quiet night 
And clutch their gold and count it in af- 
fright. 

I learned new lessons in that school of fear, 
Life took a fresh perspective ; sad and 

brave 
The view is from the threshold of the 

grave. 
In that long, backward glance I saw her 

clear 
From fogs of gathering night, and all the 

show 
Of small things that seemed great a while 

ago. 

Our dreams of fame, the stubborn power 
we call 
Our self-respect, our hopes of worldly 

good, 
Our jealousies and fears, how in the flood 
Of this new light they faded, poor and 
small ; 

25 



21 Woman's %ovc^%cttcve» 

Showing our pettiness beside God's trutii, 
Besides His age our poor, unlearned 
youth. 

The earth yearns forth, impatient for the 
days 
Of its maturity, the ample sweets 
Of Summer's fulness ; and its great heart 
beats 
With a fierce restlessness, for Spring delays 
Seeing her giddy reign end all too soon, 
Her bud-crown ravished by the hand of 
June. 

And I, — I shall be happy, — promise me 
This one small thing. Beloved, for I long 
For happiness as the caged bird for song. 
Not where four walls close in the melody 
I want the fresh, sweet air, the water's 

gush, 
The strong, sane life with thee, the sum 
mer hush. 



26 



|i ^0110 4 iatcn 

In the east a lightening ; 
Where the woods are chill 
Moves an unseen finger, 
Wakes a sudden thrill ; 

In my soul a glimmer, 
Hush ! no words are heard ! 
In heart-ambush hidden 
Chirrup of a bird ; 

Tremble heart and forest 
Like a frightened fawn, 
Gleam the distant tree-tops, 
Hither comes the dawn ! 



27 



Wimmm 

This April sun has wakened into cheer 
The wintry paths of thought, and tinged 

with gold 
These threadbare leaves of fancy brown 

and old. 
This is for us the wakening of the year 
And May's sweet breath will draw the 

waiting soul 
To where in distance lies the longed-for 

goal. 

The summer life will still all questioning, 

The leaves will whisper peace, and calm 

will be 

The wild, vast, blue, illimitable sea. 

And we shall hush our murmurings, and 

bring 

To Nature, green below and blue above, 

A whole life's worshipping, a whole life's 

love. 

28 



We will not speak of sometime fretting fears, 
We will not think of aught that may arise 
In future hours to cloud our golden 
skies. 
Some souls there are who love their woes 
and tears, 
Gaining their joy by contrast, but for thee 
And me. Beloved, peace is ecstasy. 

It was not always so, there was a time 
When I would choose the rocky mountain 

way. 
And climb the hills of doubt to find the 

day. 
Fresh effort brought fresh zest, and winter's 

rime 
Chilled not but crowned endeavor, and 

the heat 
Of summer thrilled, and made the pulses 

beat. 

But now I am so weary that I turn 

From labor with a shudder, and from 

pain 

29 



B IKHoman's XovcsUetters. 



As from an enemy ; I see no gain 
In suffering, and cleansing fires must burn 
As keenly as desire, so let me know 
Quiet with thee, and twilight's afterglow. 

I, who have boasted of my strength and will, 
And ventured daring flights, and stood 

alone 
In fearless, flushed defiance, I have 
grown 
Humble, and seek another hand to fill 
Life's cup, and other eyes to pierce the 

skies 
Of Wisdom's dear, sad, mighty mysteries. 

Ah ! I will lie so quiet in thine arms 

I will not stir thee ; and thy whisperings 
Shall teach me patience, and so many 
things 
I have not learned as yet. And all alarms 
Will melt in peace when, safe from tem- 
pest's rage 
My wind-tossed ship has found its anchor- 
age. 

30 



The world may rage without, 

Quiet is here ; 
Statesmen may toil and shout, 

Cynics may sneer ; 
The great world — let it go — 
June warmth be March's snow, 
I care not — be it so 

Since I am here. 

Time was when war's alarm 

Called for a fear, 
When sorrow's seeming harm 

Hastened a tear ; 
Naught care I now what foe 
Threatens, for scarce I know 
How the year's seasons go 
Since I am here. 
31 



21 Roman's Xove^Xetters. 



This is my resting-place 
Holy and dear, 

Where Pain's dejected face 
May not appear. 

This is the world to me, 

Earth's woes I will not see 

But rest contentedly 

Since I am here. 

Is't your voice chiding, Love, 
My mild career .? 

My meek abiding. Love, 
Daily so near ? 

'' Danger and loss " to me .? 

Ah, Sweet, I fear to see 

No loss but loss of T/iee 
And I am here. 



32 



If days should pass without a written word 
To tell me of thy welfare, and if days 
Should lengthen out to weeks, until the 

maze 
Of questioning fears confused me, and I 

heard 
Life-sounds as echoes ; and one came 

and said 
After these weeks of waiting : " He is 

dead ! " 

Though the quick sword had found the 
vital part, 
And the life-blood must mingle with the 

tears, 
I think that, as the dying soldier hears 
The cries of victory, and feels his heart 
33 



21 Moman'5 XovesXetters. 

Surge with his country's triumph-hour, I 

could 
Hope bravely on, and feel that God was 

good. 

I could take up my thread of life again 
And weave my pattern though the colors 

were 
Faded forever. Though I might not 

dare 
Dream often of thee, I should know that 

when 
Death came to thee upon thy lips my 

name 
Lingered, and lingers ever without blame. 

Aye, lingers ever. Though we may not 
know 
Much that our spirits crave, yet is it 

given 
To us to feel that in the waiting Heaven 
Great souls are greater, and if God bestow 
A mighty love He will not let it die 
Through the vast ages of eternity. 
34 



B llXIloman'6 Xove=Xetter0. 

But if some day the bitter knowledge 
swept 

Down on my life, — bearing my treasured 
freight 

To founder on the shoals of scorn, — what 
Fate 
Smiling with awful irony had kept 

Till life grew sweeter, — that my god was 
clay, 

That 'neath thy strength a lurking weak- 
ness lay ; 



r^ That thou, whom I had deemed a man of 
men 
Faulty, as great men are, but with no 

taint 
Of baseness, — with those faults that shew 
the saint 
Of after days, perhaps, — wert even then 
When first I loved thee but a spreading 

tree 
Whose leaves shewed not its roots' de- 
formity ; 

35 



B Moman'0 Xove=3Letter0, 

I should not weep, for there are wounds 
that lie 

Too deep for tears, — and Death is but a 
friend 

Who loves too dearly, and the parting end 
Of Love's joy-day a paltry pain, a cry 

To God, then peace, — beside the tortur- 
ing grief 

When honor dies, and trust, and soul's 
belief. 

Travellers have told that in the Java isles 
The upas-tree breathes its dread vapor out 
Into the air ; there needs no hand about 

Its branches for the poison's deadly wiles 
To work a strong man's hurt, for there 

is death 
Envenomed, noisome, in his every breath. 

So would I breathe thy poison in my soul, 
Till all that had been wholesome, pure, 

and true 
Shewed its decay, and stained and 

wasted grew. 

36 



B TlCloman'0 %ovc^%cttcxs. 

Though sundered as the distant Northern 
Pole 
From his far sister, I should bear thy 

blight 
Upon me as I passed into the night. 

Didst dream thy truth and honor meant so 

much 
To me, Dear Heart ? Oh ! I am full of 

tears 
To-night, of longing love and foolish 

fears. 
Would I might see thee, know thy tender 

touch. 
For Time is long, and though I may not 

will 
To question Fate, I am a woman still. 



37 



Rattle ^onj 

Clear sounds the call on high : 
" To arms and victory ! " 
Brave hearts that win or die, 

Dying, may vvin ; 
Proudly the banners wave, 
What though the goal's the grave ? 
Death cannot harm the brave, — 

Through death they win. 

Softly the evening hush 
Stilling strife's maddened rush 
Cools the fierce battle flush, — • 

See the day die ; 
A thousand faces white 
Mirror the cold moonlight 
And glassy eyes are bright 

With Victory. 
38 



djont^nt 



I HAVE been wandering where the daisies 
grow, 
Great fields of tall, white daisies, and I 

saw 
Them bend reluctantly, and seem to draw 
Away in pride when the fresh breeze would 
blow 
From timothy and yellow buttercup. 
So by their fearless beauty lifted up. 

Yet must they bend at the strong breeze's 
will. 
Bright, flawless things, whether in wrath 

he sweep 
Or, as oftimes, in mood caressing, creep 
Over the meadows and adown the hill. 
So Love in sport or truth, as Fates allow. 
Blows over proud young hearts and bids 
them bow. 

39 



U moman'6 Xove*Xctter0» 



So beautiful is it to live, so sweet 
To hear the ripple of the bobolink, 
To smell the clover blossoms white and 
pink, 
To feel oneself far from the dusty street, 
From dusty souls, from all the flare and 

fret 
Of living, and the fever of regret. 

I have grown younger ; I can scarce believe 
It is the same sad woman full of dreams 
Of seven short weeks ago, for now it 
seems 
1 am a child again, and can deceive 

My soul with daisies, plucking one by 

one 
The petals dazzling in the noonday sun. 

Almost with old-time eagerness I try 

My fate, and say : "un peu," a soft 

"beaucoup," 
Then, lower, " passionement, pas du 

tout ; " 

Quick the white petals fall, and lovingly 

40 



B Moman'0 %ovc^%ettcte* 

I pluck the last, and drop with tender 

touch 
The knowing daisy, for he loves me 

•' much." 

I can remember how, in childish days, 

I deemed that he who held my heart in 
thrall 

Must love me " passionately " or " not at 
all." 
Poor little wilful ignorant heart that prays 

It knows not what, and heedlessly de- 
mands 

The best that life can give Avith out- 
stretched hands ! 

Now I am wiser, and have learned to prize 
Peace above passion, and the summer life 
Here with the flowers above the cease- 
less strife 
Of armed ambitions. They alone are wise 
Who know the daisy-secrets, and can hold 
Fast in their eager hands her heart of 
gold. 

41 



A DASH of spray, 
A weed-browned way, — 
My ship's in the bay, 
In the glad blue bay, — 
The wind's from the west 
And the waves have a crest, 
But my bird's in the nest 
And my ship's in the bay ! 

At dawn to stand 

Soft hand to hand, 

Bare feet on the sand, — 

On the hard brown sand, — 

To wait, dew-crowned. 

For the tarrying sound 

Of a keel that will ground 

On the scraping sand. 
42 



B Woman's %ovc^TLcttcx6. 

A glad surprise 
In the wind-swept skies 
Of my wee one's eyes, — 
Those wondering eyes. 
He will come, my sweet, 
And will haste to meet 
Those hurrying feet 
And those sea-blue eyes. 

I know the day 

Must weary away. 

And my ship's in the bay, — 

In the clear, blue bay, — 

Ah ! there's wind in the west. 

For the waves have a crest, 

But my bird's in the nest 

And my ship's in the bay ! 



43 



(imtitude 

There are some things, dear Friend, are 
easier far 
To say in written words than when we sit 
Eye answering eye, or hand to hand close 
knit. 
Not that there is between us any bar 
Of shyness or reserve ; the day is past 
For that, and utter trust has come at last. 

Only, when shut alone and safe inside 
These four white walls, — hearing no 

sound except 
Our own heart-beatings, silences have 
crept 
Stealthily round us, — as the incoming tide 
Quiet and unperceived creeps ever on 
Till mound and pebble, rock and reef are 
gone. 

44 



B Roman's Xove*Xetter6, 

Or out on the green hillside, even there 
There is a hush, and words and 

thoughts are still. 
For the trees speak, and myriad voices fill 
With wondrous echoes all the waiting air. 
We listen, and in listening must forget 
Our own hearts' murmur, and our spirits* 
fret; 

Even our joys, — thou knowest ; — when the 
air 

Is full to overflowing with the sense 

Of hope fulfilled and passion's vehe- 
mence 
There is no place for words ; we do not dare 

To break Love's stillness, even though 
the power 

Were ours by speech to lengthen out the 
hour. 

But here in quietness I can recall \/ 

All I would tell thee, how thou art to me 
Impulse and inspiration, and with thee 

I can but smile though all my idols fall. 
45 



B imoman'0 %ovc^%cttcvB* 



I wait my meed as others who have 

known 
Patience till to their utmost stature grown. 

As when the heavens are draped in gloomy 
gray 
And earth is tremulous with a vague un- 
rest 
A glory fills the tender, troubled West 
That glads the closing of November's day, 
So breaks in sun-smiles my beclouded 

sky 
When day is over and I know thee nigh. 

Thou art so much, all this and more, to 
me. 
And what am I to thee .? Can I repay 
These many gifts ? Is there no royal 
way 
Of recompense, so I may proudly see 

The man my heart delights to praise re- / 

n owned 
For wealth and honor, and with rapture 
crowned ? 

46 



B Moman'0 %ovc=%cttcx6. 



Ah ! though there is no recompense in love 
Yet have I paid thee, given these gifts to 

thee, 
Joy, riches, worship. Thou hast joy in 
me, 
Is it not so. Beloved ? Who shall prove 
No worship of thee by my soul confessed ? 
And riches? Ah! a wealth of love is 
best. 



47 



^0ng 

I HAVE known a thousand pleasures, — 

Love is best — 
Ocean's songs and forest treasures, 

Work and rest, 
Jewelled joys of dear existence, 
Triumph over Fate's resistance, 
But to prove, through Time's wide distance. 

Love is best. 



48 



fmger 

I STOOD Upon a hill, and watched the death 
Of the day's turmoil. Still the glory 

spread 
Cloud-top to cloud-top, and each rearing 
head 
Trembled to crimson. So a mighty breath 
From some wild Titan in a rising ire 
Might kindle flame in voicing his desire. 

Soft stirred the evening air ; the pine- 
crowned hills 
Glowed in an answering rapture where 

the flush 
Grew to a blood-drop, and the vesper 
hush 
Moved in my soul, while from my life all ills 
Faded and passed away. God's voice 

was there 
And in my heart the silence was a prayer. 
49 



B 1KIloman'6 Xove^Xetters, 

There was a day when to my fearfulness 
Was born a joy, when doubt was swept 

afar 
A shadow and a memory, and a star 
Gleamed in my sky more bright for the dis- 
tress. 
The stillness breathed thanksgiving, and 

the air 
Wafted, methought, the incense of a 
prayer. 

Heaven sets no bounds of bead-roll or ap- 
peal ; 

And when the fiery heart with mute em- 
brace 

Bends, tremblingly, but for a moment's 
space 
It needs no words that cry, no limbs that 
kneel. 

As meteors flash, so, in a moment's light, 

Life, darting forth, touches the Infinite. 

All my prayers wordless ? Nay, I can recall 
A night not so long past but that each 
thought 

50 



Lives at this hour, and throbs again un- 
sought 
When Silence broods, and Night's chill 
shadows fall ; 

Then Darkness' thousand pulses thrilled 
and stirred 

With the dear grace of a remembered 
word ; 

And I was still, thy voice enshrouding me. 
Like the strong sweep of ocean-breath 

the power 
Of one resistless thought transformed my 
hour 
Of love-dreams to a fear. All hopelessly 
I knew love's impotence, and my despair 
Stretched soul-hands forth, and quivered 
to a prayer. 

My passionate heart cried out : " If his dear 
life 
Through stress of keen temptation merits 

aught 
Of penance or requital, be it wrought 
Upon my life. If only through the strife 
51 



Is won the peace, through drudgery the 

gain, 
Give him the issue, and to me the pain ! " 

Some day, in our soul's course o'er trackless 
lands, 
Swayed oft by adverse winds, or swept 

along 
In Fate's wild current with the fluttering 
throng 
Towards Sin's engulfing maelstrom, spirit 
hands 
Will brace our trembling wings, and 

through the night 
Point and upbear in our last trembling 
flight. 



52 



Red gleams the mountain ridge, 

Slow the stream creeps 
Under the old bent bridge, 

And labor sleeps. 

There are no restless birds, 

No leaves that stir, 
Dusk her gray mantle girds, 

Night's harbinger. 

The storm-soul's change and start 

Pause, lull, and cease ; 
In my unquiet heart 

Is born a peace. 



53 



Dear, I am lonely, for the bay is still 
As any hill-girt lake ; the long brown 

beach 
Lies bare and wet. As far as eye can 
reach 
There is no motion. Even on the hill 
Where the breeze loves to wander I can 

see 
No stir of leaves, nor any waving tree. 

There is a great red cliff that fronts my 
view 
A bare, unsightly thing ; it angers me 
With its unswerving grim monotony. 
The mackerel weir, with branching boughs 
askew 
Stands like a fire-swept forest, while the 

sea 
Laps it, with soothing sighs, continually. 
54 



B Woman's Xove^Xetters. 

There are no tempests in this sheltered bay, 
The stillness frets me, and I long to be 
Where winds sweep strong and blow tem- 
pestuously, 
To stand upon some hill-top far away 
And face a gathering gale, and let the 

stress 
Of Nature's mood subdue my restlessness. 

An impulse seizes me, a mad desire 
To tear away that red-browed cliff, to 

sweep 
Its crest of trees and huts into the deep ; 
To force a gap by axe, or storm, or fire. 
And let rush in with motion glad and free 
The rolling waves of the wild wondrous 
sea. 

Sometimes I wonder if I am the child 
Of calm, law-loving parents, or a stray 
From some wild gypsy camp. I cannot 
stay 
Quiet among my fellows ; when this wild 
Longing for freedom takes me I must fly 
To my dear woods and know my liberty. 
55 



B Roman's XovesXetters. 

It is this cringing to a social law 

That I despise, these changing, senseless 

forms 
Of fashion ! And until a thousand storms 
Of God's impatience shall reveal the flaw 
In man's pet system, he will weave the 

spell 
About his heart and dream that all is 
well. 

Ah ! Life is hard, Dear Heart, for I am 
left 
To battle with my old-time fears alone 
I must live calmly on, and make no moan 
Though of my hoped-for happiness bereft. 
Thou wilt not come, and still the red cliff 

lies 
Hiding my ocean from these longing eyes. 



56 



It sings to me, it sings to me, 

The shore-blown voice of the blithesome 
sea ! 
Of its world of gladness all untold. 
Of its heart of green, and its mines of gold, 

And desires that leap and flee. 

It moans to me, it moans to me ! 

The storm-stirred voice of the restive sea ! 
Of the vain dismay and the yearning pain 
For hopes that will never be born again 

From the womb of the wavering sea. 

It calls to me, it calls to me. 
The luring voice of the rebel sea ! 

And I long with a love that is born of 

tears 
For the wild fresh life, and the glorying 
fears, 
For the quest and the mystery. 



21 Moman'e UovcsXetters. 



It wails to me, it wails to me, 
Of the deep dark graves in the yawning sea ; 
And I hear the voice of a boy that is 

gone. 
But the lad sleeps sound till the judg- 
ment-dawn 
In the heart of the wind-swept sea. 



58 



Jntomplrf^nesH 



Since first I met thee, Dear, and long before 

I knew myself beloved, save by the sense 

All women have, a shadowy confidence 

Half'fear, that feels its bliss nor asks for 

more, 

I have learned new desires, known Love's 

distress 
Sounded the deepest depths of loneliness. 

I was a child at heart, and lived alone, 
Dreaming my dreams, as children may, 

at whiles. 
Between their hours of play, and Earth's 
broad smiles 
Allured my heart, and ocean's marvellous 
tone 
Woke no strange echoes, and the woods' 

complain 
Made chants sonorous, stirred no thoughts 
of pain. 

59 



B momaiVs 3Love*2Letter6. 

And if, sometimes, dear Nature spoke to 

me 
In tones mysterious, I had learned so 

much 
Dwelling beside her daily, that her touch 
Made me discerning. Though I might not 

see 
Her purpose nor her meaning, I had part 
In the proud throbbing of that mighty 

heart. 

But now the earth has put a tiring-cloth 
About her face ; even in the mountains* 

cheer 
There is a lack, and in the sea a fear, 
The glad, rash sea, whose every mood, if 
wroth 
Or soothing mild, is dear to me as are 
Joy's new-born kisses on the lips of Care. 

Since I have known thee, Dear, all life has 

grown 

An expectation. As the swelling grain 

Trembles to harvesting, and earth in pain 

Travails till Spring is born, so felt alone 
60 



B llCloman'0 %ovc^%cttcxB* 

Is the dumb reaching out of things un- 
born, 

The night's gray promise of the amber 
morn. 

I long to taste my pleasures through thy 
lips, 
To sail with thee o'er foaming waves and 

feel 
Our spirits rise together with the reel 
Of waters and the wavering land's eclipse ; 
To see thy fair hair damp with salt sea- 
spray 
And in thine eyes the wildness of the way. 

I long to share my woods with thee, to fly 
To some black-hearted forest where the 

trail 
Of mortals lingers not, — to hear the gale 
Sweep round us with a shuddering ecstasy, 
To feel, night's tumult passed, the cool 

soft hand 
Of the untroubled dawn move o'er the 

land. 

6i 



To swim with thee far out into the bay, 

A trembling glitter on the waves, the shore 

Glowing with noontide fervor, nevermore 

To fear the treacherous depths, though long 

the way. 

Sweet beyond words the sighs that 

breathe and blow. 
The moist salt kisses, and the glad warm 
glow. 

And when the unrest, the vague desires that 
rush 
Over our lives and may not be denied, — 
Gone in the tasting, — lure us where the 
tide 
Of men sweeps on, let us forget the hush 
Together, and in city madness drain 
Our cup of pleasure to its dregs of pain. 

Ever I need thee. Incomplete and poor 
This life of mine. Yet never dream my 

soul 
Craves the old peace. Till I may have 
the whole 

62 



21 Woman's %ovc^%cttcx6* 

My joy is my abiding, and what more 
Of dreams and waking bliss the Fates 

allow 
Comes as a gift of Love's great overflow. 



6? 



Deep in the green bracken lying, 
Close by the welcoming sea, 

Dream I, and let all my dreaming 
Drift as it will, Love, to thee. 



Sated with splendid caresses 
Showered by the sun in his pride. 

Scorched by his passionate kisses 
Languidly ebbs the tide. 



64 



Sife's Jogs 



I HAVE been pondering what our teachers 

call 
The mystery of Pain ; and lo ! my 

thought 
After its half-blind reaching out has 

caught 
This truth and held it fast. We may not 

fall 
Beyond our mounting ; stung by life's 

annoy, 
Deeper we feel the mystery of Joy. 

Sometimes they steal across us like a 
breath 
Of Eastern perfume in a darkened room, 
These joys of ours ; we grope on through 
the gloom 
Seeking some common thing, and from its 
sheath 

6s 



B Moman'0 Xovc^Xetters. 

Unloose, unknowing, some bewildering 

scent 
Of spice-thronged memories of the 

Orient. 

Sometimes they dart across our turbid sky 
Like a quick flash after a heated day. 
A moment, where the sombrous shadows 
lay 
We see a glory. Though it passed us by 
No earthly power can filch that dazzling 

glow 
From memory's eye, that instant's shine 
and show. 

Life is so full of joys. The alluring sea. 

This morning clear and placid, may, ere 

night, 

Toss like a petulant child, and when the 

light 

Of a new morning dawns sweep grand and 

free 

A mighty power. If fierce, or mild, or 

bright, 

With every tide flows in a fresh delight. 
66 



21 Moman's %ovc^%cttcte* 



I can remember well when first I knew 

The fragrance of white clover. There I 
lay 

On the warm July grass and heard the 
play 
Of sun-browned insects, and the breezes 
blew 

To my drowsed sense the scent the blos- 
soms had ; 

The subtle sweetness stayed, and I was 
glad. 

Nor passed the gladness. Though the years 

have gone 

(A many years, Beloved, since that day,) 

Whenever by the roadside or away 

In radiant summer fields, wandering alone 

Or with glad children, to my restless 

sight 
Shows that pale head, comes back the old 
delight. 



Oh ! the dark water, and the filling sail ! 

67 



B Moman'6 %ovc^%cttcr3. 

The scudding like a sea-mew, with the 

hand 
Firm on the tiller ! See, the red-shored 

land 
Receding, as we brave the hastening gale ! 
White gleam the wave-tops, and the 

breakers' roar 
Sounds thunderingly on the far distant 

shore. 

This mad hair flying in the breeze blows wild 
Across my face. See, there, the gather- 
ing squall, 
That dark line to the eastward, watch it 
crawl 
Stealthily towards us o'er the snow-wreaths 
piled 
Close on each other ! Ah ! what joy to be 
Drunk with salt air, in battle with the sea ! 

So many joys, and yet I have but told 

Of simple things, the joys of air and sea ! 

Not all these things are worth one hour 

with thee, 

68 



B 1imoman'5 %ovc^%cttcx6. 

One moment, when thy daring arms enfold 
My body, and all other, meaner joys, 
Fade from me like a child's forgotten 
toys. 

One thought is ever with me, glorying all 
Life's common aims. Surely will dawn 

a day 
Bright with an unknown rapture, when 

thy way 
Will be pty journey-road, and I can call 
These joys our joys, for thou wilt walk 

with me 
Down budding pathways to the abounding 

sea. 



69 



Low laughed the Columbine, 
Trembled her petals fine 

As the breeze blew ; 
In her dove-heart there stirred 
Murmurs the dull bee heard, 
And Love, Life's wild white bird, 

Straightway she knew. 

Resting her lilac cheek 

Gently, in aspect meek. 

On the gray stone, 

The morning-glory, free. 

Welcomed the yellow bee. 

Heard the near-rolling sea 

Murmur and moan. 
70 



B xnaoman's XovcsXettcrs. 

Calm lay the tawny sand 
Stretching a long wet hand 

To the far wave. 
Swift to her warm waiting breast 
Longing to be possessed 
Leaps 'neath his billowy crest 

Her Lover brave. 



71 



There is a long thin line of fading gold 
In the far West, and the transfigured 

leaves 
On some slight, topmost bough that sways 

and heaves 
Hang limp and tremulous. Nor warm, nor 

cold 
The pungent air, and, 'neath the yellow 

haze, 
Show flushed and glad the wild, October 

ways. 

There is a soft enchantment in the air, 
A mystery the Summer knows not, nor 
The sturdy, frost-crowned Winter. Nat- 
ure wore 
Her blandest smile to-day, as here and 
there 

?2 



B 1lCloman'6 Uovc^Xetters. 

I wandered, elf-beset, through wood and 

field 
And gleaned the glories of the autumn 

yield. 

A bunch of purple aster, golden-rod 

Darkened by the first frost, a drooping 

spray 
Of scarlet barberry, and tall and gray 
The silk-cored cotton with its bursting 

pod, 
Some tarnished maple-boughs, and, like a 

flash 
Of sudden flame, a branch of mountain 

ash. 

She smiled, but it was not the welcoming 

smile 

Of frank surrender. As a witching maid 

In gorgeous garments cunningly arrayed 

Might smile and draw them closer, hers 

the guile 

To let men hope, pray, labor in love's 

stress 
Ere they her hidden beauties may possess. 
73 



B Moman'e Xove^lLetters. 

Deep in the heart of earth where the 

springs rise, 
Down with the sweet linnaea and the 

moss, 
In the brown thrush's throat, where the 

pines toss 
In Winter's harrying storms her secret lies. 
Ours the chill night-dews and the waiting 

pain 
Ere we her fairy wealth may hope to gai::. 

'Tis so with knowledge. Eagerly we turn 
Great Wisdom's page, and when our 

clear eyes grow 
Dim in the dusk of years, and heads 
bend low 
Weary at last, the truth we strove to learn 
Is ours forever. But its joy of sight 
Is dearly bought, methinks, with Youth's 
delight. 

Fate, too, with chaffering voice and beckon- 
ing hand 
Doles out our happiness ; we snatch at 
wealth 

74 



B moman'9 %ovc^%cttexe. 

And pay with anxious care and fading 

health. 
We call for Love, and dream that we shall 

stand 
On ground enchanted, but, though sweet 

the way, 
The rocks are sharp, and grief comes 

with the Day. 

Even in love. Dear Heart, there is ex- 
change 

Of gifts and griefs, and so I render thee 

Vows for thy vows, and pay unfalter- 
ingly 
What love demands, nor ever deem it 
strange. 

And when the snow drifts fast, and 
north-winds sting 

I make no murmur, but await the Spring. 



75 



Joy came in youth as a humming-bird, 
(Sing hey ! for the honey and bloom of 
life ! ) 
And it made a home in my summer bower 
With the honeysuckle and the sweet-pea 
flower. 
(Sing hey ! for the blossoms and sweets 
of life ! ) 

Joy came as a lark when the years had 

gone, 

(Ah ! hush, hush still, for the dream is 

short ! ) 

And I gazed far up to thj melting blue 

Where the rare song dropped like a golden 

dew. 

(Ah ! sweet is the song the' the dream be 

short ! ) 

76 



B Roman's %ovc^%cttcv0. 



Joy hovers now in a far-off mist, 

(The night draws on and the air breathes 
snow !) 
And I reach, sometimes, with a trembling 

hand 
To the red-tipped cloud of the joy-bird's 
land. 
(Alas ! for the days of the storm and the 
snow ! ) 

L.ofO. 



77 



@o-|lllorr0UJ 

But one short night between my Love and 
me ! 

I watch the soft-shod dusk creep wist- 
fully 

Through the slow-moving curtains, paus- 
ing by 
And shrouding with its spirit-fingers free 

Each well-known chair. There is a grow- 
ing grace 

Of tender magic in this little place. 

Comes through half-opened windows, soft 
and cool 
As Spring's young breath, the vagrant 

evening air, 
My day-worn soul is hushed. I fain 
would bear 
No burdens on my brain to-night, no rule 

;8 



B Moman'i} Xove^TLcttcrs. 



Of anxious tliouglU ; the world has had 

my tears, 
My thoughts, my hopes, my aims these 

many years ; 

This is Thy hour, and I shall sink to sleep 
With a glad weariness, to know that when 
The new day dawns I shall lay by my pen 

Needed no more. If I, perchance, should 

weep 

A few quick tears, so doing, who would 
guess 

*Twas the last throb of my soul's loneli- 
ness ? 

Not even thou. Dear Heart, canst ever know 
Mow 1 have yearned these many months, 

these years 
For love, for thee. As the calm boatman 
steers 
His slender shallop where he fain would go 
Tempests and rocks before, so through 

the dark 
To this dim, far-off day has set my bark. 
79 



To-morrow ! I can hear the quick-closed 
door, 

The approaching steps, my pained heart's 
fluttering, 

Thy voice, then Thee ! And all the 
storm and sting 
Of bygone griefs are passed forevermore. 

Swept from my life as the resistless wind 

Scatters the chaff, nor leaves a mote be- 
hind. 

As long-imprisoned captives reach the light, 
And gaze with greedy eyes on field and 

tree, 
Drinking the beauties of the sky and sea 
Half fearful of their bliss ; so from the 

night 
Of dreams and shades, half doubting, we 

awake 
And grasp the joy we almost fear to 

take. 

Thou hidest in thy warm ones my cold 

hand, 

80 



B Moman'0 Xove^iLetters. 



Reading my soul in these unwavering eyes. 
Nay, thou hast known my hopes, my 
agonies 
Through written words, and thou canst un- 
derstand. 
I have kept nothing back of all the 

streams 
Of my heart-flowings — doubts, nor fears, 
nor dreams. 

So long my life has followed no control 
But mine own impulse ; now, I pray thee, 

bend 
My will to thine, and so, unhindered, tend 
My soul's wild garden. I have laid the 
whole 
Bare to thy sowing ; and life's precious 

wine 
Is of thy pouring, and thy way is mine. 



8i 



^0110 



Where is the waiting-time ? 

Where are the fears ? 
Gone with the winter's rime, 

The bygone years. 

O'er life's plain, lone and vast, 

Slow treads the morn, 
Night shades have moved and passed, 

Joy's day is born. 

THE END. 



82 



pil'i;,iPlil 




.m 







UBRAKVOTX0NGRES8 




ooo2Si=i2aoi' 



